Chapter 2

Cyrus walked in just as Falon was fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, a look of pure shock on her face.

"Kelsey, what the hell is going on?" he demanded. His eyes were on me, filled with disapproval. "You're upsetting Falon. Can't you see she's pregnant?"

He was using her pregnancy as a shield, just like she did.

"I can see that she's wearing your shirt, Cyrus," I replied, not breaking my stare from Falon. "In our kitchen. As if she belongs here more than I do."

"It's just a shirt! For God's sake, be reasonable." He took a step towards me. "Her hormones are all over the place. You're a woman, you should understand. Have some compassion."

"My compassion ran out last night when you were massaging her feet," I shot back. My voice was getting louder. "This is my house. My marriage. And I'm done sharing it."

Cyrus grabbed my arm. His grip was tight. "Stop it. You're making a scene."

"Let go of me," I said through gritted teeth.

He ignored me. "I'm doing this for my brother," he said, his voice low and intense. "This is his baby. It's my duty to take care of them. It's the last piece of him we have left."

He kept repeating that, "my duty," "my brother," as if it excused everything. As if my feelings were an inconvenience to his noble sacrifice.

"Then you can do your duty somewhere else," I said, yanking my arm free. "We're getting a divorce."

He actually laughed. It was a short, sharp, disbelieving sound. "A divorce? Don't be ridiculous. What, you want more money? A new car? Fine. I'll buy you a new car. Just stop this nonsense."

He thought he could buy my silence. Buy my compliance. Just like he always had.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Falon slide up next to him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"Cyrus, don't be angry with her," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's my fault. I'm causing so much trouble. I should have known this would be too hard on Kelsey."

Her eyes were filled with fake tears. She looked from Cyrus to me, a perfect picture of a sad, misunderstood victim.

"Maybe I should just leave," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't bear to be the reason your marriage falls apart."

She started to cry, soft, delicate sobs. Cyrus immediately wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a protective embrace. He glared at me over her head.

"See what you did?" he hissed.

Something inside me snapped. The years of quiet frustration, of being ignored and belittled, came rushing to the surface.

"What I did?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "Let's talk about what you did, Cyrus. What time did you come to bed last night after your little chat with Falon? Midnight? One in the morning?"

He stiffened.

"And the night before that? And the week before that? How many nights have you spent comforting her from her 'nightmares'?" I put air quotes around the word.

Falon sobbed harder into his chest.

"How normal is it, Cyrus, for a man to massage his sister-in-law's feet? To have her waiting outside the bathroom for him? To let her wear his clothes around the house in front of his wife?"

Every question was a bullet, and I could see them hitting their mark. His face went from angry to pale.

"It's not my fault! I shouldn't have come!" Falon wailed, pulling away from him. "I'll pack my things. I'll go. It's all my fault."

It was a perfect performance. She was threatening to leave, knowing he would never let her. She was making him the hero who had to save her from the cruel wife.

And just like she planned, Cyrus turned to her, all his attention focused on calming her down. "No, Falon, don't say that. You're not going anywhere. This is your home now."

He didn't even look at me. It was as if I didn't exist.